


I tried to do handstands for you (but every time I fell for you)

by may_tricks



Category: Faking It (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Implied homophobia, Slow Build, Teen Angst, amy's in denial but what else is new?, fake / pretend relationship, kissing lots and lots of kissing, skinny love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1539671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/may_tricks/pseuds/may_tricks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy is just doing what any good friend would do. Honestly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I tried to do handstands for you (but every time I fell for you)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything related to Faking It or the Bruises lyric I used for the title or anything at all, in case you're wondering.

When Karma asked Amy to be her pretend girlfriend there was no doubt in Amy’s mind that Karma had officially gone off the deep end. For one thing, neither of them were gay. But of course one should never be quick to apply logic to Karma Ashcroft, lest they be greatly disappointed when she proves, yet again, that common sense has never once threatened any of her _ingenious_ plans. Amy will admit that Karma is, if nothing else, incredibly creative. It’s the bane of Amy’s existence but she just knows one day it’s going to end them up in a federal penitentiary or dead, you know, _whatever._ Honestly though, it shouldn’t even _surprise_ her anymore, after all Karma had thought diagnosing herself with a tumor would launch her to the top of the social ladder so playing gay should actually be a welcome suggestion.

Amy thinks this must be the reason she inevitably accepts her new designation as a doting girlfriend.

It wasn’t as if Karma signed up for the fake lesbian thing either, it just sort of _happened._ Much inthe same way all things happen with Karma: too suddenly to stop before it’s too late. She’s a whirlwind when Amy’s not there to keep her from spinning out and it’s pretty unbelievable they made it so long without fucking up this big before. But the thing is that this time, this whole thing, it’s not entirely Karma’s doing. It’s on Lauren, actually, for making that Lesbos comment in the first place. Everything kind of just went downhill from there.

But Karma, for her part, initially denied the claims vehemently, fearful that being deemed a _vagitarian_ would ward off the advances of her crush du jour _,_ Liam Booker. Surely, she had nothing to gain from posing as Amy’s girlfriend. That is, of course, until she realized nothing would get Liam’s blood pumping more than the allure of hooking up with the _Unattainable Lesbian TM._ And a fifteen year old girl, who wants nothing more than high school celebrity and a popular boy’s attention, is very nearly a lost cause.

Amy doesn’t blame Karma—not entirely anyway—because she knows how badly she wants to be recognizable. Even if she thinks Karma is anything but ordinary (especially since the name _Karma_ hardly screams common) there’s no convincing her of something once she gets an idea in her head. It doesn’t even matter what Amy thinks of Karma because best friends always think the best of each other. To Karma, it only matters what she thinks of herself, and Amy _knows_ that. So if Karma thinks being popular will make her happier then who is Amy to deny her? In the end, Amy is well aware of how Karma is every shade of wonderful and that once Karma can get to that place too all this popularity stuff with fall to the wayside. So stupidly, crazily, in the pursuit of her best friend’s ultimate personal growth, Amy does exactly what Karma asks.

Because she’s a _good friend._

* * *

_Karma hasn’t eaten peanut butter in a decade. She commits so hard to this friendship, this is the least I can do._

Is the thought Amy keeps on repeat as Karma presses a quick kiss to her cheek before launching off in the opposite direction, heading to first period.

Crazy schemes are hardly new frontier for Karma—and by default, Amy—but _very rarely_ do the schemes come to fruition. Usually, they fizzle out like a bad science fair volcano (Amy would know because hers did exactly that back in grade six). Based on her history, expansive and tremendous as it is, Karma’s plans never pan out quite like as she expects: they fail. Every time, they fail. And yet, time and time again, Karma deludes herself to believing that _this_ time it’s going to succeed. The consistency of Karma’s botched attempts is actually what gave Amy a thread of comfort amongst the madness. They would fake gay for a day or two before the plan blew up in their faces—like a Frisbee flying at warp speed directly towards them).

So Amy is nothing short of _completely fucking blown away_ when the whole school not only _buys_ that she and Karma are hopelessly in love but they’re _rooting_ for their faux romance. Of all the times Amy was grateful one of Karma’s claims to fame burnt out, she thinks she’d trade them all in for this one to go to waste. But nope, Amy’s just not that lucky. Instead, she’s dating Karma. Charming.

They have a photo-shoot scheduled and a pep rally to attend and half a dozen other social events Karma wrote out on sticky notes to keep in her locker. She even goes as far as to colour code them.

Ignoring the bright Post-Its, Amy grabs her textbooks and materials and weaves through the corridor on her way to class. Thankfully, she’s still pretty much a nobody without Karma hanging around. No one immediately recognizes her as a Homecoming nominee the same way Lauren gets noticed—although, Amy thinks she might actually prefer being known as a Karma’s girlfriend if it meant she wasn’t known for being like Lauren—so she has a couple minutes of relief from the bedlam that was her morning.

She makes it to class, which she gets half way through before someone mentions the whole lesbian thing.

“Hey, you’re that lesbian girl, right?” Amy’s seat neighbour asks when they’re supposed to be doing silent seatwork.

Stunned, Amy’s hand jerks and a nasty streak of ink crosses out half the page. “Uhm, yeah. I guess.”

The girl frowns at Amy’s stained handout then meets her eye. “Takes a lot of nerve to tell people.”

“You have _no_ idea.” Amy exhales shakily, her knee bouncing restlessly under her desk. She _does not_ want to be having this conversation.

It’s another twenty minutes until lunch so as long as she can make it to 11:45 then there’s only half a day left. Amy can manage that.

“What’s the other girl’s name, your girlfriend’s?”

“Karma,” Amy replies but she’s not sure if it’s an answer or a mantra.

_Karma, help me out here. Karma, you fucking owe me. Karma, tell everyone we’re not gay and not in love and turn it back to how it was before because I just can’t keep doing this. Please, Karma. Please._

“I’ll vote for you two.” The girl shares, oh-so nonchalantly as if the admission isn’t killing Amy. How can she be so calm about this? “You seem cool.”

Choking out a “thank you,” Amy returns to her marked up paper. She copies down the definitions from the margins of her textbook until the bell rings and the teacher sends them off. Normally, she and Karma would meet up to find a secluded corner of the school to occupy for an hour. Sometimes they head off campus for lunch or just hangout. Today they have a photo-shoot. Karma said she wanted a normal high school experience—to have a clique of friends and go to parties and bask in the trumped up image of what adolescence is all about. A photo-shoot is not normal; _none_ of this is normal.

All the same, Amy meets up with the girl who’s going to be taking the pictures, and makes small talk when Karma’s _late_ (not cool, Karma). Once they finally manage to track Karma down, Amy feels like she’s run head first into a clear glass wall.

Karma’s kissing Liam.

But Amy doesn’t get upset, doesn’t let herself storm over and lose her shit at Liam. Because she’s happy for her best friend. She really, really is. She’s happy for Karma, after all, isn’t that what friends are for?

And really, Amy’s doing all of this for Karma.

* * *

Amy doesn’t want to kiss Karma.

Not because Karma is gross or smells bad or is ugly or anything, of course not. Objectively speaking, Karma is very attractive. She meets all the criteria for the standard Western beauty. Also, she’s hygienic and smells good, like springtime. It makes Amy’s head spin when they’re standing so close and suddenly kissing. Although, Amy would wager that the fact they’re macking in front of their entire year could also be the reason she feels lightheaded. Definitely because of the audience. Amy just has performance anxiety, which isn’t even a lie because in seventh grade she got out of presenting in front of the class because Karma told the teacher all the kids sitting closest to the front of the class would need _Sea World_ slickers because Amy was going to spew her lunch up on them if she had to present.

Amy kisses her anyway.

In law class last year, Amy learned about the insanity defence, and she thinks that must be as good as any for why she decides to plant one on Karma in the middle of their high school’s packed gymnasium. It’s a moment of temporary insanity, spurred from the mounting pressure of the past week. The world moving under Amy’s feet like the gradual shift of tectonic plates, a sign of a natural disaster, an act of God. Foreboding, foreshadowing. Karma kisses back and it feels like being trapped in an avalanche. Her touch is so light, just her hands on Amy’s elbows, but it’s so much pressure. She’s running out of oxygen.

Amy never understood what people meant when they said two people stopped kissing so they could breathe. She never felt like she would be so desperate for air until all of hers reeked of Karma’s conditioner, her body wash. The world evaporates and Amy’s not breathing, she might just pass out. They’re not even kissing, Amy thinks. More than anything, it’s glorified CPR. Karma is breathing Amy back to life. It’s incredible and terrifying and how long have they been kissing anyway?

 _“Whoa.”_ Karma breathes, the feeling of which rattles Amy’s mind.

_“Yeah.”_

Grinning keenly, Karma gives Amy an exaggerated wink, “Way to sell it.”

Amy deserves a best friend _medal._

* * *

The fact that Amy even _shows_ to Homecoming is a testament to how great a friend she is.

Anyone else probably would have given up by now, ran in the opposite direction. Not Amy though, who is nervously picking at her unpainted nails, tearing at them with her teeth. She’s not nervous, it’s just a thing she does. When she was little, Amy used to chew and suck on the ends of her hair. She doesn’t do that anymore though. Now she just keeps to picking at her nails, much to her mother’s chagrin. Her mother, who knows nothing about the big gay debacle going on school. Her mother, who upon answering the door to reveal Shane in that awful _Brokeback Mountain_ inspired getup, warned him with cheesy pop lyrics not to break her little girl’s heart, all while entirely unaware that Amy wasn’t bearding for Shane so much as the other way around.

Not that Amy is gay.

Well she _is_ to everyone at Hester High.

Obviously, this is getting out of hand.

The point is she not only makes an appearance at the dance but she goes as far as to gracefully accept her role as a Homecoming queen.

It turns out the evening is not as horrendous as Amy trumped it up to be in her mind. Sure, she has to paste on a winning smile for her and Karma’s adoring fan base but Amy and Karma goof around and take up the whole dance floor, grinning like maniacs while spinning each other out of control as onlookers smile indulgently at them. Amy even spots the girl form her class that told her how gutsy it was to “come out.” When the girl gives her a thumbs up from the edge of the dance floor Amy is feeling light enough to return the gesture with a proud smile.

When Amy’s mother shows up with a camera crew in tow, however, Amy feels less delighted. She had left Karma alone for whole thirty seconds before the media crowded up in her face, Amy’s mother looking at Karma with newfound rhapsody, the kind that belonged to an aspiring news anchor who found her first big story rather than the woman who saw her in her PJs more often than Karma could count.

It’s unfamiliar for Karma to earn so much of Mrs. Raudenfeld’s attention, which is why she feels like she’s looking directly into the sun. Amy’s mother has that effect on people. Not necessarily because she’s warm and light and gives you an extra boost of energy. More like, you’ll probably start feeling delirious from prolonged exposure. With a desperate smile, one that Karma prays doesn’t project the somersaults her stomach is doing, she makes an awkward hand gesture and gets the first letter of Amy’s name off her lips before Amy herself returns from the bathroom, the picture of petrified when she spots all the cameras on Karma.

Amy doesn’t know why she doesn’t turn around and run far, far away. Maybe to Mexico or Canada. She hears it’s nice in Canada, when it’s not snowing that is. Actually, Amy’s never seen real snow before. It’s way the fuck too hot in December for that shit in Texas. Maybe the snow would be nice. She could make angels and snowmen and have snowball fights. But, who with if she leaves Karma behind? This is the last though in Amy’s mind before she realizes there’s a camera zooming in on her face, up close and personal, and what if she has acne? What if she has awkward facial hair? What if this ends up going viral and Amy’s known as some super huge homodyke for the rest of her natural life?

There’s no time to dwell before Karma’s stationed next to her, a small comfort in such distressing times. The dance moves on in the background, although some kids try to get their fifteen minutes of fame by running around and calling out to the cameramen. Amy tries to act really fucking calm about the fact her world is blowing up in front of her except she’s got an expression on her face like she’s having a war flashback. It also doesn’t help anything that it looks like her mother is going to have a stroke in the middle of her high school dance. Her mother’s going to die on camera, in the middle of her Homecoming, and it’s all Amy’s fault.

All because she had to play along and be a _good friend._

* * *

It’s really quiet in Amy’s house after Homecoming.

No one says anything.

Well that’s not exactly true. Amy’s mom talks to Lauren’s dad, tells him all about the shitstorm that was the dance. Lauren makes some stupid, snarky comment at Amy’s expense. Tells Amy that this is what she gets for being such a fucking freak and messing with the status quo. Amy doesn’t say anything though, holds her tongue until she barricades herself in blankets and pillows. She’s under the covers in the dress Karma picked out, the one she said brought out the colour of her eyes. She’s still wearing her heels, which catch on her linens. Her room is dark, the window blind drawn and the overhead light turned off.

It hasn’t been this quiet since Amy’s dad walked out all those years ago.

The idea has some merit, Amy thinks. Walking out. It’s not too late to jump ship. She could get changed, grab the overnight bag she keeps permanently ready, and sneak out into the night. Where would she go? Amy doesn’t have a passport so it’s not like she can make a break for the boarder. Besides, she’d have to walk because her mom donated her bicycle to charity after she stopped riding it three years ago. In her piggybank, Amy has a grand sum of $74 saved up. She could take a cab somewhere or the bus since it’s cheaper. There’s a couple of busses that head out of town, she could keep hopping them until she was so far away from Austin that she forgot it entirely. Or she could stay in bed forever, hiding under the blankets like a coward, where she could be anyone she wanted to be without consequences.

On the nightstand table, Amy’s cell buzzes with an incoming message. The whole room lights up.

Rolling over, Amy feels her dress cling to her uncomfortably, and remembers how good Karma felt pressed up against her when they were dancing. She reaches for the phone, a single word in the centre of the screen:

**hey**

In spite of herself, Amy smirks. Karma is probably sitting at home freaking out about this whole thing, unsure of what to say. It’s always easy to tell when she’s worried or upset or pissed off since Karma’s text are usually novel length.

**hey back**

Less than a minute later, Karma texts back: **im so sorry about tonight**

**why? you didn’t do anything**

A minute passes before the phone spasms with half a dozen alerts:

**this was all my fault**

**you didnt want any of this**

**i shouldnt have gotten you involved**

**we dont have to keep doing this**

**im really sorry**

**/really/**

Thumbs hovering over the touchscreen keyboard, Amy smiles sadly at Karma’s rapid fire texts. There’s no way for her to explain that yes, things are shitty right now, and yes none of this would have happened if they had just been honest the whole time, but that Amy still had a good time tonight. She got to see Karma be crowned teen royalty. Her whole face lit up and those beautiful, grateful eyes on Amy. It’s that memory that keeps Amy from running off into the night.

**i’m not**

**you’re my best friend. i’m happy we won**

About a minute later, Amy gets a response.

**you’re the best friend ever**

She bites her lip and grins when she types her reply.

**and girlfriend**

A moment later:

**i’m so lucky, anyone else would have bailed by now**

**i love you**

Staring at the message until the screen turns itself off, Amy doesn’t text back. Instead, she curls in on herself and grips the fabric of her bedspread. She imagines Karma in her dress, how she looked in the plastic tiara Amy placed atop her head. Lauren’s fuming expression still leaves Amy feeling superior, even though she’s ultimately suffering. Right now, Lauren has the upper hand; she likely will for the rest of their lives because Amy is imperfect and kisses her best friend instead of playing little miss debutant. Amy doesn’t regret playing Karma’s girlfriend, though. Karma was thrilled when they were voted Homecoming queens and in the same way that Amy feels Karma’s pain when she’s hurting, she also feels her joy when she’s happy.

Because she’s Karma’s best friend and Karma is hers.

* * *

The next morning is Saturday.

Amy moves through the house slowly, carefully, and silently.

No one says a word. Not even Lauren, who seems to have only now recognized the magnitude of the situation. In any other circumstance, Amy would be amused but given the past few days she’s not really in the mood to joke. On the weekend it’s not common for the four of them to eat together, which Amy is eternally grateful for. She gets enough “family” interaction during the school week, where her mother expects her to sit at the kitchen table and talk about her plans for the day or week ahead. This morning, Amy’s mother is sitting at the table with Lauren’s dad. They’re reading different sections of the paper and eating scrambled eggs with toast. Neither looks up at Amy when she enters the room. As quietly as possible, Amy pours herself a glass of juice and takes an orange from the fruit bowl on the counter. When she pads out of the room, all she hears is the shuffling of paper and coffee mugs.

Around noon, Amy leaves a note in the vacated kitchen. She doesn’t say she’s going over to Karma’s although she is. Where else would she be going after a night like last? It’s a twenty minute walk to the Ashcroft residence but the sun is shining and the sky is clear. When she makes it to Karma’s place, she doesn’t bother knocking. Karma’s mom never cares when Amy let’s herself in so Amy does exactly that. In the living room, Ms. Ashcroft is doing yoga with a friend. The women smile at Amy and tell her to help herself to whatever she wants in the kitchen, which rarely includes sweets that Amy likes but does have actual meals instead of the flash frozen ones Amy is used to having at home.

From the fridge, she picks out tofu dogs then takes the whole jar of dill pickles out too. At the kitchen table, where Amy feels infinitely more at home, she makes herself lunch. A couple minutes later, Karma’s mom and her friend join Amy and ask her about the dance and if something happened because Karma’s been holed up in her room all day.

“I should go check on her,” Amy says as an excuse to escape the Spanish Inquisition Ms. Ashcroft will start up if she lingers any longer. Proud of herself, Ms. Ashcroft smiles knowingly as Amy slips upstairs.

Just like with the front door, Amy doesn’t knock before entering Karma’s room.

There’s a lump in the middle of the double bed, which doesn’t move even when Amy climbs on top of the mattress, feeling it sink under her added weight.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Karma murmurs into her comforter.

Amy kicks what she assumes is Karma’s leg. “Ominous but not going to work. I’m like a tumor pressing down on your optic nerve.”

“Annoying and out of place?” Karma retorts as she rolls on to her other side so she can look up at Amy.

Amy makes a flourished motion with her arm, as if encompassing a sentence in midair.

“Please have that engraved on my tombstone: _Amy Raudenfeld. Annoying and out of place_.”

Karma kicks Amy in the gut. “I’m really sorry about last night.”

“I’m really sorry you keep apologizing for last night.” It wasn’t Karma’s fault, when will she get that?

“I had no idea your mother would show up, especially with a camera crew.”

“Yeah well, you know my mom.” Amy offers with a wry smile. “Big on grand entrances.”

Inching across the mattress, Karma manages to pull herself up into a sitting position with her back against the wall. Her hair is dishevelled and she’s wearing a shirt that’s huge on her because she mistakenly ordered the wrong size online. She looks exhausted, like she hasn’t been sleeping, and she’s making a face like she wants to smirk at the apt description of Amy’s mother but doesn’t want Amy to think she’s over everything that’s happened.

“Why do you do it?” It’s an accusation more than a question, which is why it shocks Amy.

“Why do I do what?”

Huffing, Karma acts like Amy’s being _purposefully_ difficult, as if she should know what she’s referring to without something as pedestrian as verbal language.

“Why do you go along with my stupid plans?”

The answer rolls of Amy’s tongue, a knee-jerk response. “Because you’re my best friend.”

“Why though?” Karma demands, sounding too much like a petulant six year old, although Amy doesn’t tell her so. Instead, she starts pouring out all the things that come to mind when she thinks of why she keeps coming back to Karma despite all the craziness attached, maybe _because_ of it.

“Because we went to the same grade school so I’ve known you since forever. And because you make me laugh and we’ve never had that awkward phase where we have to learn what’s weird to say around each other because we’re literally _always_ weird around each other. Because you picked me first for partner assignments and you brought me homework when I was sick then did it for me.”

For a moment, Amy thinks she sees the smallest bit of a doubt in Karma’s eye so she powers forward.

“You piss me off, Karma. You do.” She starts bluntly, if only to get Karma’s attention. Only once she’s sure she has it, Amy continues.

“You get so wound up in your great big schemes and lose sight of the real world. You talk endlessly about things I don’t always care about. You play the same song fifty fucking times in a row if no one stops you. You told me my yo-yo routine was good because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings, you always split your dessert with me even when it’s your favourite, you took me to the school nurse when I got my period for the first time.” Amy offers with an embarrassed, ruthless grin, remembering the awful red stain in her gray shorts, her fear she was dying of blood loss.

A split second later her expression is solemn and her voice drops to a murmur.

“You cried harder when my dad left than I did because you couldn’t imagine someone leaving me behind and you thought if you did all the crying then I wouldn’t have to.”

She can’t make Karma’s eye, feels her own filling with tears.

“You let me in when your gam-gam died. You told me I’d never get a boyfriend because you’d have to approve of one good enough for me and that would just never happen. No one would ever be good enough for me.”

 _“Amy.”_ Karma whispers, her voice shaky.

Amy sees the shine on Karma’s eyes; unshed tears. She can’t stop now.

“You didn’t eat peanut butter for a decade because I’m allergic.”

It’s like breaking a dam.

Karma falls apart, sobbing in an uncontrollable way Amy hasn’t seen since her grandmother died. She moves over the bed instantly, gathers Karma up in her arms, and hauls her up against her chest. Together, they manage to lay themselves flat. Sniffling into Amy’s shirt, Karma gasps against the juncture of her neck.

_“I love you, I love you, I love you.”_

“I love you too.” Amy iterates into Karma’s hair, ignores how her heart is jerking around in her ribcage.

 _“No,”_ Karma rebuts too sharply, it sounds so angry. Her head lifts from Amy’s chest and her eyes are burning up.

“I _love_ you. I don’t know if it’s because I don’t know how not to or what but it’s true: _I love you._ I think I must be the luckiest person in the world because I have you for a best friend. No one could do better than I did; non-negotiable. I’ve spent every day since I’ve known you being so fucking _grateful_ for you. I don’t need you in my life but I _want_ you. I want you more than I’ve wanted anything and I’ve wanted you to want me just as much. I _want_ you, Amy. I want you so badly I’d fake date you for the chance. God, I’m such an idiot.”

Karma’s words echo in Amy’s head: _I love you, I want you, I want you, I love you._

It’s terrible timing but Amy doesn’t care, can’t care when there’s so much going on all at once. She adjusts Karma against herself then kisses her hard on the mouth. Messy with desperation and tears and a relief sweeter than Amy’s ever known, she kisses Karma until her mouth is raw. She kisses Karma until Karma kisses back just as roughly, needy, passionately. Shoving Amy’s down by the shoulders, Karma kisses her with such ferocity Amy fear she might just break, but then Karma slows considerably. It’s as if every ounce of frustration drains right out of her and all that’s left is exhaustion and thankfulness, belated joy, and respite. They kiss tenderly after that, deeper than their previous attempts, but just as raw. They’re shaking, fingers jittery and lips anxious, so they keep kissing and touching and biting and licking until they fall apart.

“You’re my best friend,” Amy directs to Karma’s bedroom ceiling while the other girl clasps her hand.

“Good,” Karma decides. “Because you’re stuck with me since you’re mine too.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

Pushing up on to an elbow, Karma pushes Amy’s hair away from her face. “I’m always happy with you.”

Her admission does something to Amy. It gives her peace, calms her erratic heart rate down. It clears her mind and it slows her breathing back to something approaching healthy. It takes her apart then puts her back together again. She pushes Karma down then slides over her, lines their hearts up so she can feel Karma’s beat to the rhythm of her own.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's hoping the second episode is as successful as the first! Thanks for reading and have a lovely day!


End file.
